Fallout
by Old Time Fan
Summary: Next in The Big One universe. Two very messed up people are about to collide....


**Fallout**

_© Old Time Fan. I own nothing L&S, I just rewrite it to suit me. In this installment, two people careening out of control unexpectedly collide…with each other._

Laverne rubbed her eyes, struggling to wake up. It felt like she was swimming up from under the ocean, and every time she got close to the surface, an undertow pulled her back down again. Finally, with a determined jerk, she forced her eyes open.

Memory returned more quickly. She bit her lip and lay staring up at the ceiling, listening to the deep, rhythmic breathing of the man whose bed she shared. Rubbing her still rounded, but now-empty stomach, she slowly sat up and looked down at him. She was surprised that no tears rose to sting her eyes, no flood of despair or guilt washed over her. She was simply too stunned.

Gently, she reached down and brushed a stray hair back from his forehead. He stirred and opened his eyes, blinking away the same bleariness that had first greeted her. When he finally focused, the expression that came over his face nearly broke her heart all over again. "Laverne?" he whispered hoarsely.

"What have we done, Carmine?" she asked. "Dear God, what have we done?"

Two Months Previous… 

"Carmine, we've been back for two weeks already," Lenny tried again. "You gotta tell Frank the truth!"

They were sitting in his apartment. Laverne was off with Shirley doing some last-minute baby shopping, and Lenny had taken the opportunity to invite Carmine over to prod him yet again about Frank. So far the conversation was going like several previous attempts…absolutely nowhere.

"Len, I know that!" Carmine tossed back the remainder of his third beer and banged the empty can on the table. "I just have to figure out what I'm gonna say, that's all."

"How about, 'you're not my father?'" Lenny offered. "That might work."

"Look, it's not that easy, okay? I mean, the guy's thought I was his son for thirty years now. You know how happy he's been, thinking that he doesn't have to keep it a secret anymore. Guy can't stop hugging me every time I see him."

Lenny nodded. "Yeah, and I've hardly been able to keep him from tellin' my wife. I keep telling him that with the baby comin' she couldn't take the shock, but that ain't gonna work much longer, Carmine. Baby Kosnowski's due to make an appearance next week." Lenny gulped as his beer, hoping that Carmine couldn't see how badly his hand was shaking.

Carmine stood up, opened the fridge, and took out another beer. He sank into his chair with a sigh.

"Help yourself," muttered Lenny.

"Okay. Len, look, I know you're right. It's just…" Carmine trailed off. He opened the can and drained half the contents with impressive speed. "I really wanted it to be true. As shocking as it was, once I heard that Frank was my father, I was so…"

"Happy?" Lenny nodded. "Yeah, I get that, really I do. I'm not tryin' to make this all harder on you, but Carmine, you gotta deal with this sooner or later. And I'm really hopin' you make it sooner. Frank has a right to know, and Laverne doesn't need to find out."

Carmine nodded, his dark eyes averted. Abruptly, he downed the rest of the beer and stood up. "Okay, Len. I'm gonna go do it."

"Now?" Lenny was afraid to get his hopes up.

"Yeah. Right now." He put the beer can down and headed for the door. "You're right. I can't continue this fantasy. There are other people to consider."

"Geeze, Carmine, thanks a lot. You don't know what a weight this is off of me." Lenny felt a little guilty for sounding selfish. "Um, you want me to go with you for moral support or something?"

Carmine gave him a brief smile. "No, thanks. I gotta do this alone. Thanks for the sympathetic ear though. And the beer."

"You're welcome. Let me know how it goes, okay?"

Carmine nodded and Lenny watched him leave. He turned and examined his single empty beer can across the table from Carmine's four. "Guess he found the right words at the bottom of the last can." He shook his head and grabbed the trashcan to clean up.

"Every day, I lose a little bit more of him," said Shirley, holding a tiny pink dress in her hands. "He's slipping away right in front of me and I can't seem to say or do a thing to stop it."

"Shirl, come on." Laverne folded a fluffy yellow blanket and laid it in her cart. "Carmine loves you more than anything, except maybe his kid."

"That breaks my heart even more."

"What do you mean? I thought you and Lucy were getting along great?"

"Oh, we are!" Shirley hugged the little dress to her chest. "She's been so sweet and accepting of me as a stepmother. Obviously, Carmine' genes won out over her bitch mother's."

Laverne chuckled. "So what's the problem?"

"Ever since Carmine got back from Milwaukee, he's been so remote with Lucy. It's like he's afraid to spend any time alone with her."

"That doesn't make any sense, Shirl. She's his daughter."

"I know it doesn't, but there it is. He's stopped taking her out alone, not even for ice cream. He comes home late, spends about five minutes in the same room with us, then sends her off to bed alone. Not even a bedtime story anymore, Laverne! He loved reading to her, and I know she misses it." Shirley hung the pink dress back on the rack. "The poor child finally got a father in her life, only to lose him to goodness knows what."

"Have you talked to him about it?"

Shirley shrugged. "I've tried. He just says that the last visit with his father was really rough and he needs some time to get over it. But it's been weeks now, Laverne. What could have happened that would alienate him from us? We didn't do anything."

"No, of course not," Laverne soothed, rubbing her belly where the baby was kicking. Kid was going to be a football player. "I'm sure it's not you or Lucy Carmine's got a problem with. It's his own self."

"But _why_?" Shirley's voice rose in frustration, attracting the glances of several other shoppers. She blushed and lowered it to a whisper. "Why would he come back from seeing the father he never wanted to be like and start behaving just like him?"

"Wait a minute. What do you mean? You aren't telling me that Carmine's being abusive to you?"

"No, God no." Shirley shook her head emphatically.

"Or Lucy?"

"Of course not! He's never so much as raised his voice to her, let alone…no, nothing like that. But the coldness, Laverne. It's like we're strangers who happen to live with him, instead of his wife and daughter. And, well."

She paused, and Laverne prompted, "What? What else is there?"

"He's been drinking. A lot. Mostly at night, after I've gone to bed. The past week especially, I've woken up alone, only to go downstairs and find him asleep on the sofa and the trash stuffed with cans." She blinked back tears. "I can't do this, Laverne. I can't deal with another alcoholic in my life."

Laverne walked around the shopping cart and embraced her friend. "Shirl, I don't know much about it, but I don't think you can become an alcoholic inside a couple of weeks."

"You'd be surprised how fast it can happen."

"Maybe, but Carmine knows about these things. Remember how he helped Len with the painkillers? Hell, Carmine's own mother died from her addiction! He wouldn't do that, not to himself or to you and Lucy. I know him, Shirl. He may be down and yeah, okay, overdoing things to kill whatever pain he's in, but I think you're jumping to conclusions."

Shirley pulled away from her. "So you think you know my husband better than I do?"

Uh, oh, thought Laverne. This was a road best not taken. "That isn't what I meant, Shirl."

"Oh, I'm not arguing with you. You probably do at this point. After all, when was the last time he talked, really talked to me? I can't even remember." She laughed harshly. "The ironic thing is I'm winding up a single mother to a child that isn't even mine. Life sure does turn out different our fantasies, doesn't it?"

For the rest of the day, Laverne tried to reach her again, but Shirley refused to discuss anything beyond baby clothes and furniture for the rest of the afternoon. By the time the car was loaded and they were driving home in silence, Laverne had formulated her own plan. She did know Carmine pretty darn well, both from her own friendship with him and through her husband's. She was sure that she could talk to him, reason with him as a friend, without all the baggage that made it so tough for him to open up to his wife. Once she'd explained to him that he was on the verge of losing Shirley, Carmine was bound to straighten up.

_First, I've gotta get him to tell me what the heck happened in Milwaukee_, she resolved. All she knew from Lenny was that Carmine had kissed off his father once and for all, and that Lenny had somehow bumped into his own dad after all these years. She sensed that there was more than that, especially where Pop was concerned, but Lenny kept on insisting that Frank was out there for some totally separate business. Somehow, though she trusted her husband completely, she felt that he wasn't being totally honest this time. It had to be because he was keeping a secret for Carmine, but that was tough. The time for secrets was over, and she was determined to get to the bottom of everything. After all, what secret could be worth their best friends' marriage?

"Hello, son!" exclaimed Frank, throwing open the door. "Come on in! Where you been hiding yourself? I hardly see you 'round the Pizza Bowl Too these days, you haven't come by here, and you're never at home when I call." He slapped Carmine on the back affectionately. "What, you sick of your new old man already?"

"No, not at all. It isn't that." Carmine forced himself to look into Frank's face and smile, even though the sight made him feel sick inside. The older man was so filled with happiness ever since their return and it was all based on lies. The realization that he was about to drive that twinkle out of Frank's eyes cut at his heart like a knife.

"So, you need some money? How much, twenty? Fifty? Whatever, I got ya covered." Frank took out his wallet and began flipping through it.

"Frank…no. I'm fine, cash-wise. Um, is Edna here?"

"Naw, she's in New York, visiting Amy for a week. It's just you and me, son."

Carmine winced. "We'd better sit down. I gotta talk to you, Frank."

"Sure, we sit, we talk. You want a beer?"

"God, yes." Carmine dropped onto the sofa and waited. When Frank returned, he accepted the beer and popped it open, draining it in three gulps.

"Hey, slow down, there." The older man dropped into his easy chair with a groan. "So, what bring you by, son? You got somethin' on your mind?"

"Yeah, I do." He paused, searching for what to say next, but came up empty.

"Well?"

"I…God, there's just no good way to say this." Carmine took a deep breath and forced himself to look straight into Frank's eyes. "Frank, there was a mistake."

"A mistake? What mistake?"

"My mother…she was wrong. About you and me."

Frank sighed. "Carmine, you gotta let that go. Your mamma, she made mistakes, but so did I. You gotta forgive her, and move on."

Carmine shook his head. "No, that's not…"

"Look, son." Frank rose slowly and walked over, resting his hands on Carmine's shoulders. "I can't change the past thirty years. But we don't gotta keep this all secret no more. Why don't you and me tell Laverne, together? Hell, bring your family! We can make an evening of it, a nice dinner, some good music, and that beautiful granddaughter of mine. You know, really celebrate us all finally being a family. What do you say?"

Carmine felt as though the walls were closing in on him. He removed Frank's hands and stood up, stepping well out of the heavyset man's reach. "Frank, you gotta listen to me. This is nothing Laverne needs to hear."

"What are you, nuts?" Frank exclaimed. "Come on, you sound like Lenny now! This is good news, Carmine, so why should it upset her? She loves you like a brother, always has. This is just makin' it official, that's all!"

"Frank, you can't tell Laverne that you're my father!" Carmine found himself pressed up against the front door. He desperately wanted to fling it open and run outside.

"Why not? What are you, ashamed of me all of a sudden?"

"No, of course not. It's…"

"Then what's the problem?" Frank threw his hands in the air. "Let's just tell her that you're her brother and that's…"

"I can't do this. I…I just can't." Carmine turned around and yanked the door open.

The rush of fresh air into his lungs brought some relief. Then his eyes met Laverne's and he couldn't breathe all over again.

"You're my _brother_?" she whispered, her face draining of color.

"Laverne…no. Oh, no." Carmine backed away from her, bumping into Frank. Trapped, he could only stand and stare back into her stricken green eyes.

"It's true, Muffin," said Frank, resting one hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry you had to overhear it like that, but yeah. I'm Carmine's real father."

"But you're not," said Carmine, turning to face him.

Frank looked right past him. "Muffin? Are you all right?"

Carmine followed his gaze. "Laverne?"

She was clutching the doorframe, one hand pressed against her bulging abdomen. "My brother. Oh, God, my own brother." Then she dropped to her knees.

"Sweet Jesus!" They ran to either side of her, easing her back until her head was resting in her father's lap. Carmine looked down and saw that the front of her skirt was wet.

"Laverne, hold on, okay?" He gave her his hand and she clutched it, gasping. "You're going to be all right, you hear me?"

"The baby…Carmine, the baby!" She cringed and let out a cry of pain that shook him to his core. He pulled his hand away and scrambled to his feet, running for the telephone, the sound of Frank struggling to comfort his daughter in his ears.

Lenny walked into the hospital, his throat so tight he could hardly draw breath. All Carmine had told him over the phone was that he had to get there as fast as possible, because Laverne needed him. He'd made it to the emergency room in ten minutes flat, yet he had no recollection of getting into the car or driving over. His mind was completely filled by image after terrible image of what might be happening to his wife and child.

"Len, good. You're here." Carmine approached him as soon as he entered the waiting room.

"Where is she? What happened? How's the baby?"

"She's in labor, Len."

He just stared. "But…it's too soon. The baby isn't due for another couple weeks."

"I know. She had kind of a shock and it apparently triggered premature labor." Carmine wouldn't meet his eyes.

"A shock? What sort of a shock?" When Carmine didn't answer, Lenny grabbed the front of his shirt. "What kind of a shock, Carmine!"

Carmine sighed heavily. "She overheard me talking to Frank."

Lenny felt cold. Releasing Carmine's shirt, he walked over to the waiting room, grasping the back of a seat to hold himself up. "How?"

"She was outside the door. Voices were raised; trailer walls are thin. I'm so sorry, Len."

"Where are they now?"

"Laverne's in the delivery room. The doctor said he'd come out and let us know…when."

Lenny squeezed his eyes shut. "They've gotta be okay, Carmine. Laverne, our baby – they're everything to me. I gotta go to them." He started off, but Carmine grabbed his arm, stopping him.

"Len, they won't let you in there."

"They can't keep me out! That's my whole world in that room, and I could lose it…them…everything." All the strength drained out of him. He felt Carmine grab his arm and lead him to a chair, sitting him down on it. "Thanks."

"Len, Shirl and Frank are right outside the delivery room. When you're ready, we'll go over and she'll give us an update, if there is any."

"Yeah, okay. I just need a second."

"I didn't know she was listening, Lenny, I swear I didn't!" Carmine blurted. "I'd give anything if she hadn't overheard." His expression was riddled with guilt.

"I don't understand. I mean, I knew she'd be surprised and pretty mad at Frank for hiding something from her and betraying her mother, but premature labor? How could she get _that_ upset? It's not like she hates you or nothing." He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes.

Carmine took a deep breath. "Len, you know about that time me and Laverne…we almost…"

"Yeah, I know. We don't have secrets from each other."

Carmine winced. "Yeah, well, I think that's it. I mean, thinking that she and her half-brother went so far. We almost, you know. And she's a good, Catholic girl and it was so wrong in the first place."

Lenny let his hands drop back into his lap and looked back at Carmine. That's when he saw Shirley standing behind his friend's back. "Carmine," he began.

"I mean, it wasn't her fault. Neither of us knew, could possibly have imagined, that we might be siblings at the time. But still, I guess the very thought…Len?" Carmine met his eyes. Lenny saw realization flicker in his eyes before Carmine turned his head to look up into his wife's pale, drawn face.

"Your sister. My God, it was bad enough…and she's your _sister_!"

Before Carmine could get to his feet, Shirley whirled around to storm away. But then the doctor stepped into the room and all three of them froze where they were.

"Are you Mr. Kosnowski?" the doctor asked.

Lenny nodded. His pulse was drumming so loud in his ears he could hardly hear what the man had to say.

"You have a son, Mr. Kosnowski. Congratulations."

He didn't dare breathe. "Is he all right? And my wife? Is she…?"

"Why don't you go see for yourself?" The doctor gestured to a room further down the hallway.

Lenny turned to Carmine, who gave him a wry grin and clapped him on the back. "Go, man! Go be with your family."

"Yeah. My family." Still numb, Lenny forced his legs to move and followed after the doctor, leaving Carmine and Shirley to their own devices.

As soon as the doctor and Lenny left, Shirley bolted from the waiting room. She only made it halfway down the hall before her husband caught up to her.

"Shirl, wait! You gotta let me explain."

"Explain? Explain what, exactly?" She spun round to face him. "How Laverne could possibly be your sister? Or why I had to overhear it to find out?"

"Both." He reached for her but she stepped away. Folding his arms, he asked, "Do you want to hear this or not?"

She pressed her lips together. Finally she said, "Go ahead."

"Okay."

It took awhile. The whole thing was so unbelievable that she could only stare in dumb fascination until he paused for breath. It was almost enough to distract her from her fury. Almost.

"So all these years, Frank thought I was his illegitimate son. But I'm not and I had to tell him, I _knew_ I did. It was just so hard, and when we were finally face to face…I couldn't get the words out."

"So Laverne only overheard that you were brother and sister. My God, Carmine, no wonder she collapsed!"

"I swear I had no idea she was anywhere near by! I'd never hurt Laverne or her baby, not on purpose – you know that! You know _me_!"

She shook her head. "No, not anymore. I haven't known you for a long time."

His eyes darkened. "What are you saying, Shirl? You actually think I meant for this to happen?"

"To Laverne? No, no of course not." She closed her eyes. "I'm just so tired of this, Carmine. Secrets upon secrets upon secrets…you've been wandering around our home like a ghost. I asked you – no, begged you – to confide in me, to let me help you, but you turned me down every time." She opened her eyes and fixed them on his. "I've told you before that if you kept anything from me again, we were finished. You swore to me that you wouldn't."

"Shirley, look, this was different. I couldn't tell you! I promised Lenny…he was so afraid of what it might do to Laverne to hear any of it and he was right! I couldn't take a chance that you…well, that you might…"

"What? Slip up? Spill it to Laverne even if you asked me not to?" Her voice was shaking, but she couldn't control it. He was confirming all her worst fears.

Carmine held out his hands. "I just couldn't take the chance. I was going to tell you everything, once the baby was born."

"That isn't the point, Carmine!" she snapped. "The point is you still don't trust me! I'm your wife, damnit! I'm supposed to be your dearest friend, your most trusted confidante, and yet you choose again and again to keep me out of your life."

"You _are_ my life!" he pleaded. "You and Lucy, you're everything to me that matters!"

She shook her head. "No, Carmine, that's just not so. Protecting Laverne was just an excuse and you know it. Even if Lenny hadn't asked you to keep it quiet, you wouldn't have told me a thing!"

"That isn't…"

"Who else knew, Carmine? Who else!"

"Well, Lenny of course, but that's cause he was there. My father does, but he doesn't matter. Frank obviously knows all but the fact that I'm not his. And…" He hesitated.

"And?"

"Squiggy." He hung his head.

She let out a bitter laugh. "Squiggy. Even Squiggy knows my own husband better than I do now." She threw her hands in the air. "I'm done, Carmine. I can't live with you anymore, not like this. I've had it!"

His expression changed. She expected contrition, but what crossed his face was anything but. In a low, even tone he said, "You know, I'm getting pretty damn sick and tired of you threatening to leave me every single time something doesn't go your way."

She blinked. "You…you can't possibly be blaming the strain on our marriage on _me_."

"It takes two people to make a marriage work. I've seen first-hand what happens when they both give up from the get-go, and I won't put my child through that."

"And I've seen what happens when a man turns to alcohol instead of his spouse for comfort and I won't put myself through that!" she shot back

He took a step toward her and she backed away, startled by her own sudden fear. "You know, I've been going through some rough times lately, and I've done it alone. I kept it to myself so that I wouldn't hurt you or my daughter."

"_Your_ daughter. Like I haven't become as much a mother to her as you are her father."

"And what's the thanks I get, huh?" He took another step toward her and she found her back pressed up against the cold plaster wall. "I hold it all in like a man should, struggle to live up to your impossible standards, and all I get are threats. Well you know what?" He slammed one hand against the wall next to her head and she flinched. "I'm tired of waiting for you to drop the other shoe, Shirl. I'm sick to death of weighing every word out of my mouth to make sure it won't send you running for your suitcase. You want to leave me?" He pointed sharply to the exit door at the other end of the hallway. "Fine. End the suspense and just go already!"

She hesitated, then pressed both hands against his chest and shoved him away. Tears blurred her vision as she dashed off down the hall; away from the stranger she had married.

Lenny peered into the little white room before gently tapping on the door. "Knock, knock?"

Laverne was lying on the bed like a limp rag doll. Tucked in the crook of one arm was a little white bundle. She opened her eyes and looked at him. "Hey, daddy."

The breath he'd been holding for the past half hour suddenly whooshed out of him and his knees nearly buckled. Holding himself up by the wall, he made his way closer to the bed. "Is that who I think it is?"

She smiled wanly. "It's our son, Len. Say hi."

He approached the bed warily and peered down at the bundle. He saw a tiny red face with puffy eyes squeezed shut and a wisp of fuzzy blond hair on its forehead. The little mouth was quivering as though sucking an invisible pacifier. Before his brain could catch up to his voice, Lenny said, "He's kinda squishy."

Laverne laughed. It wasn't her usual hearty guffaw, but it was still a relief to hear. "He's a newborn, Len, and a little ahead of schedule at that! This is how they look fresh out of the box!"

Lenny reached a tentative finger for the baby and stroked one buttery-soft cheek. "Wow. There he is. He was part of you for so long and now, poof! He's his own little person."

"Do you want to hold him?"

Lenny shrank back. "What are you, kidding? He's all breakable and stuff!"

"Len, don't be a dunce." Laverne held the baby up to him.

"Maybe later." He pulled up a chair and sat down beside the bed, absently caressing his wife's hair while staring at his new baby. His son, his firstborn. His. Lenny couldn't quite wrap his brain around it. "So, are you okay? Did it…hurt?"

She sighed. "Ever poop out a watermelon?"

"Can't say that I have, no." He squirmed in his chair.

"Well, it ain't fun. But at least you get a nice take-home gift." She snuggled the baby, who let out a little mew.

"What is it? Is he hungry? Is he hurt?" Lenny jumped to his feet. "Nurse! Hey, nurse…where are these medical people anyway? Leaving a new mother all alone…nurse!"

"Len, calm down! He's fine. Probably just hungry." She lowered her hospital gown and put the baby to her breast. He squirmed and wriggled, but didn't latch on. "Maybe not," she sighed, readjusting herself.

Lenny lowered himself shakily back into his chair. "How's about his mamma. Are you all right?"

She didn't answer. He watched her snuggle the baby, her eyes fixed somewhere off in the distance. At last she said, "Did you know? About Carmine, I mean."

_Oh, boy, here it comes._ Lenny steeled himself for her outrage and said, "Yeah, I did. Only there's more to it than that."

"Tell me," she said quietly. "All of it. Now."

He couldn't help but obey. When he finished, he added, "I would never have kept any of it from you except I was so afraid you'd get upset. I'm so sorry, Laverne. You know I hated lying to you every single second."

"But you did it to protect me and our baby."

"Yeah, but as usual, it totally backfired. I can't believe it nearly – things almost went so awfully wrong. I'm used to bein' stupid, but I ain't used to it hurtin' people so important to me." Tears filled his eyes as he caressed his son's tiny face again. Just thinking of anything happening to this fragile little guy broke his heart. Believing that he almost caused it made him want to throw up.

"Hey, it's okay." Laverne's hand was cool against his cheek. He leaned into it. "I understand, Len. You weren't stupid at all. Look what happened when I did hear about it. I always overreact and it could have…" She bit her lip and rested her cheek against the baby's head. "It was just such a shock, you know, to find out like that."

"He's not your brother, you know," said Lenny. "It was a mistake, or a lie. I guess we'll never know for sure, since Carmine's mother took that truth to her grave. That was the other side of it; Carmine just didn't know how to break it to your father."

"Pop's been so happy since he came back from Milwaukee. Whistling, being nice to the customers, not like himself at all. He always wanted a son." Her smile held just a trace of old bitterness. "Now he has one. Maybe Carmine shouldn't tell him."

Shocked, Lenny blinked at her. "He can't lie about something like this! It's too big, Laverne."

She shrugged. "I guess not. It's gonna break his heart, though."

Lenny kissed her forehead and rested his head against the baby's. "Well, now at least he's got a grandson to cheer him up."

Unseen by the new parents, Frank stepped away from the doorway and leaned against the hospital wall. "It's gotta be a mistake," he whispered. "It has to be!" Then he slid down to the floor and buried his face in his hands.

Carmine sat at the bar across from the hospital, his hands still shaking so much that he could hardly hold his beer mug. "Another, please."

The bartender glanced at him. "Comin' right up, fella."

Carmine stared into the bottom of his mug, replaying his confrontation with Shirley over and over again. What had he done? How had he gone from apologetic to threatening so impossibly fast? He'd driven away his only anchor in this world, the one person he could count on for love and comfort. And the way he'd done it! His father, his real father, would be so proud.

"Celebratin' all by your lonesome?" Squiggy slid onto the barstool beside him.

"Not exactly." Carmine accepted his refilled mug from the bartender and poured it down his throat, waiting for the welcome numbness to take effect.

"They're okay, right?" Squiggy's eyes widened. "The nurse at the front desk said…!"

"Relax, Squig. Laverne and the baby are just fine. He's only a little early. The doctor says he's got to stay in the hospital a few extra days, that's all, but then he can go home with his mother and father." Carmine took another swig, draining the glass.

"Oh, good. 'Cause I got him a great baby present. Wanna know what it is?"

"You're gonna tell me anyway."

"It's a stuffed moth!" Squiggy pulled the toy out of a bag beside his barstool and wiggled it in the air. "Ain't it the cutest thing you ever seen?"

Carmine rolled his eyes. "Sure, Squig. Absolutely."

"Yeah, you know it." He patted the moth, and then stuffed it back in its bag. "So, what you doin' here, all on your alonesome? Where's your lovely wife, still at the hospital?"

"I'll take another!" Carmine called to the bartender. The guy looked irritated at being recalled so soon. "No, I think Shirl's probably on her way to Santa Barbara by now."

"Hey, ain't that where her mom lives? I thought they didn't get along all that good."

"Yeah, well, Mom's probably looking pretty darn welcoming to her right now." Carmine took a swallow of his newly refilled beer. "Squig, I'd kinda like to be alone right now, if you don't mind. Why don't you go to the hospital and visit the happy family?"

Squiggy's eyes narrowed, watching him carefully. "Maybe I ought to stay here."

"Didn't you hear what I just said?"

"Yeah, yeah I did. I also see that look in your eyes."

"What look?"

"That look of I'm so miserable right now that I wish the earth would swallow me whole."

"Oh really." Carmine banged down his beer mug and turned on his stool to face Squiggy. "And what gives you such insight all of a sudden?"

"I've seen it a lot over the years. Mostly in my own mirror." Squiggy crossed his arms. "So, what gives? Why you so down when such a good thing just happened?"

"Leave it alone, Squig."

"Make me."

Carmine nearly knocked over his stool jumping to his feet. "What are you, stupid?" he shouted. "I'm telling you to walk away! Just do it!"

Squiggy shrank back, but he didn't leave. "No."

"No?" Carmine felt his right hand tighten into a fist. "You really want me to make you?"

A part of him seemed to be still sitting on the barstool, watching himself in amazement. _What are you doing? You're threatening a harmless little guy over nothing!_ But the part of him that was in control couldn't be bothered to listen. "I mean it, Squiggy. Just walk away!"

"Hey, you take that stuff outside!" the bartender warned.

"Sure," said Squiggy. He stood up slowly, remaining just outside of Carmine's reach. "You heard the guy, Carmine. What's say you and me take a little walk?"

"Fine. You asked for it." He stormed out of the bar after Squiggy, hands clenching and unclenching along the way. When they got outside, Squiggy kept right on walking down the alley until Carmine snapped, "Where do you think you're going?"

"For a walk. Come on, it's a nice night."

"That isn't…" He closed his eyes and jammed both fists against them. "I didn't come out here to take a walk with you!"

"Maybe not." Squigy turned around, one hand propping him up against the brick wall. "But you need a walk more than you needed that next beer, and you know it."

Carmine felt all the rage drain out of him all at once. He slumped down against the bricks and rested his forehead on top of his knees. "Jesus, what the hell is happening to me?"

He felt a hand on his shoulder. "I ain't exactly the Lord and Savior, but I think I know. Wanna hear?"

"Go for it," Carmine mumbled.

"I think you're all torn up inside on account of your old man not being Frank, and you can't bring yourself to hurt the guy like you're hurting now. Problem is, you're so busy trying to keep all that inside that it's eating you up like a tapeworm, messin' with your head, makin' you act all wrong. Am I warm?"

"Shockingly." Carmine looked up at Squiggy. "I've been trying so hard to keep it to myself so I wouldn't hurt anyone else, especially my family. Except now it seems like that's all I am doing." He pounded the back of his head against the bricks, enjoying the distraction physical pain brought. "I don't know what I'm doing anymore, Squig. I'm trying to stay in control, but it's not working!"

"Well, bashing your own brain in ain't gonna help." Squiggy extended a hand. "Carmine, I get that it's hard. Why if I thought I was trading up on fathers like you did, and wound up getting shot down, I think I'd go a little nuts, too."

"It's more than that. I can't explain…I think I'm turning into him."

Squiggy raised an eyebrow. "Into who?"

"My father," Carmine whispered. "My real father."

Squiggy fell silent. Finally he said, "Well, you gotta stop that. Right now!"

"I know." Carmine looked up at him, his heart pounding. "The problem is, I don't know how."

"I…I…" Squiggy threw his hands in the air. "I'm sorry, Carmine. I'm out. If I had this answer, I'd be a whole different human being." He thrust his hand out more emphatically. "Come on. At least I can get you out of this alley." Carmine took his hand and stood up. "Where do you want to go?"

Carmine shook his head, blinking as if unable to wake up. "I have no idea. I really, really don't."

"Will you get him, please?"

"Huh?"

"Len, the baby. Please go get him."

Lenny blinked and rubbed his eyes. A quick glance at the clock showed him that it was 4:30 in the morning. "Didn't I just get him?"

Laverne rolled onto her side. "That was two hours ago. It's your turn."

"Yeah, but Laverne…"

"But what?" She sat up and glared at him. "I haven't slept more than ten minutes at a stretch since they kicked us out of the hospital!"

"Yeah, but…"

"Exactly how many times have you given him a bottle, huh? Changed a diaper? Once, twice?"

"Yeah…"

"You think it's like the old days, when you work and I do everything for the kid?" Her eyes filled with tears. "If that's so, how come I still got a job?"

"I'll go, I'll go!" He practically leapt out of bed. Anything was better than dealing with yet another waterworks show from his wife. Muttering to himself as he went down the short hallway to the baby's room, he wondered how their entire life had gone so topsy-turvy so fast.

It started as soon as Laverne was to be discharged from the hospital. She flat out refused to go at first, insisting she hadn't learned enough yet about taking care of little Joseph. The doctors had to practically tossed them out on the street, Laverne alternately weeping and raging the entire way. At first, Lenny assumed it was her frustration at the baby's refusal to nurse, but even once a bottle overcame that obstacle, nothing improved. Instead, Laverne seemed to turn into a whole other woman right before his eyes. She was either clingy or treated him like a invader in their own home. Either he was doing too much because he didn't think she was a good mother or he wasn't doing enough because he was a hesitant father. He was just plain wrong all the time, and while he was pretty used to feeling that way about himself, he didn't much care for his wife's sudden agreement on the subject.

Lenny picked up the squalling infant and cradled him in his arms. "Sh, Joey, it's okay," he whispered. "Daddy's here. Yeah, that's right, it's me again. Sh, now, okay." He patted the baby's back and stumbled into the kitchen with him to warm the bottle.

Once it was ready, he sat and fed his son, marveling at the tiny fingers that patted at his hand. He kissed the infant's forehead. "You are so cute. I can't believe I said you were squishy. You gotta forgive me for that, okay, buddy? 'Cause you're about the most adorable thing I ever laid eyes on."

The baby blinked, wide blue eyes staring up at him with such innocence and trust that Lenny felt like crying himself. He couldn't believe this little boy was his. "How could something so perfect come from a jerk like me?"

A warm hand caressed the back of his neck. "You ain't a jerk," said Laverne.

He glanced up at her over his shoulder. "I'm surprised to hear you say that."

She sighed and pulled up a chair beside him. Caressing Joey's peach fuzz covered head, she said, "Len, I'm so sorry. I don't know what's wrong with me. Ever since the baby was born…I don't know. Sometimes I feel like I'm going crazy or something."

"It's lack of sleep," said Lenny. "I swear the other day I thought I saw this guard dog down at the warehouse winking at me. I kept watching him, and he wouldn't do it, but then as soon as I looked away, I'd see him wink outta the corner of my eye." He put down the bottle and put the baby on his shoulder, rubbing his back.

"Yeah, well, it's not so much seein' things. I just feel so…bad." She bit her lower lip. "I stink at this, Len. I'm not being a good mommy."

"Don't say that."

"It's true! Maybe it's because I didn't have my Mamma to teach me what to do, or maybe I just don't got the right instincts. Whatever it is, Joey knows it. He don't like me." A tear ran down her cheek.

"How can you say that?" Lenny heard the baby burp and gave him a congratulatory hug. "Joey's just a little baby. Of course he loves his mommy!"

She was crying now. Lenny wondered how her tear ducts could keep up these days. "No, he don't! First he won't nurse, then he just cries and cries whenever I pick him up. I can't do anything right by him and…and…"

Lenny sighed. Holding Joey in one arm, he reached over and put the other around Laverne's shoulders. "It's just gonna take awhile that's all. This is all so new, to both of us."

She pulled away. "You don't understand Len! It's worse than that!"

"Tell me."

"I can't! It's too…I just can't!"

"Well, why not talk to Shirl? Maybe some girl talk will help you sort things out."

"Are you kidding? Shirley's life is falling apart right now! She ain't even around!"

"There's the telephone. Or what about your father?"

"There's no one who would understand, Len, don't you get it? I feel…I don't…oh, forget it!" She ran back upstairs, sobbing.

Lenny sighed. He held the baby in his lap and looked down into his little face. "You're mommy's just a little insane right now. Don't worry, though. Once she gets back, you're gonna like her just fine."

Joey looked up at him and grinned. But the grin quickly became a belch and a fountain of milk spewed out of his mouth. "Thanks, kid," said Lenny, lifting the baby back onto his shoulder. He surveyed the mess on his pajamas and groaned. "That was a big help!"

Carmine opened the door, straining to get his eyes to focus. "Yeah?"

"Good morning to you too," said Frank, looking at him with disapproval. "Or should I say good afternoon?"

"Frank." Carmine was at a loss. He'd successfully avoided the guy for a week, but apparently he couldn't hide anymore. It was a good thing he was still feeling last night's buzz. It drowned out other, less comfortable emotions.

"Ain't you gonna let an old man sit down?"

"Oh, yeah. Sorry. Come on in." He led Frank into the living room, tripping over an old pair of slippers on the way. "Sorry about the mess. Since Shirley's been away…"

"Yeah, yeah, I understand." Frank took a seat.

"Sorry, can I get you something? A beer maybe?"

"It's a little early, Carmine."

"Not for me." He made his way into the kitchen and snagged a six-pack out of the fridge. Returning, he dropped it on the coffee table and then slouched down on the sofa. As he reached to take one, Frank's large hand clamped down on his, stopping him.

"You gotta stop this," Frank said.

"Stop what?" Carmine tried to pull him hand away, but Frank was surprisingly strong. He gave up, staring at his hand resting in the older man's. "What do you want from me, Frank?"

"The truth."

Carmine's blood ran cold. "About what?"

"You know what." Frank surveyed the mess around him and frowned. "Carmine, can't you see what you're doin' to yourself? You're trashing your life, and why? What are you tryin' to accomplish?"

"Nothing. Absolutely nothing." He tugged his hand away and leaned back on the sofa.

"Where's your daughter?"

"She's with Shirley at Shirl's mother's place."

"Just like that?"

"So?" asked Carmine defensively. "School's over and Shirley wanted her there. Why not? Shirl's more a parent to her than I am, anyway."

"That's not the way it used to be." Frank leaned forward. "Something's been eatin' at me for weeks now, ever since I overheard Lenny and Laverne talkin' at the hospital. I been telling myself I heard wrong, that it's a misunderstanding, whatever. But the way you've been acting – avoiding me, drinking, chasing your own family away – I'm getting a real bad feeling that it's true. So you tell me straight, Carmine." He took a deep breath. "Am I your father or not?"

Carmine felt his stomach clench. This is it, he thought. No more hiding, no more pretending. He cleared his throat and said, "No, Frank. You're not."

Frank seemed to deflate in his chair. "_Santa Maria_," he murmured.

"I'm sorry." Carmine couldn't look him in the face. "I wish I was your son, so much…"

"How do you know?" Frank demanded. "What makes you so sure? Your mother told me…!"

"She was wrong. Either she wanted it to be true so bad that she made a mistake or she flat out lied."

Frank stood up and began pacing, his right hand clamped against his left arm. "She couldn't have. And even if she did, what about Tony? He punished me – all of us – for three damned decades! Are you tellin' it was all some kinda twisted game, using his own kid to make me think…" His voice rose louder and louder as he switched into a fluent Italian that Carmine couldn't follow.

"Frank!" Carmine finally shouted. "Calm down and listen to me and I'll explain!"

"Calm down? Calm down, he says! I worked so hard to protect you, and your mother, and my wife from findin' out, and now you're telling me it was all a _mistake_!" Frank stopped pacing and glared at him. "You're wrong, Carmine. You've gotta be."

Carmine could feel his own blood pressure rising. Aggravated, he grabbed Frank by the shoulders and cried, "I had a paternity test done in Milwaukee! Tony is my biological father!"

"It's wrong," said Frank, his face almost glowing red. "It's gotta be wrong."

Carmine gave him a firm shake. "Listen to me! It isn't wrong. No matter how much you want it to be wrong, or God help me, how much I don't want to be Tony's son, it's the truth." He let go of Frank and turned away, unable to bear the look of disillusionment on the man's face. "I've been trying to find the right time to tell you, pick just the right words, but no matter what it comes out all ugly and wrong. I'm not your son, Frank. The past thirty years were just you living in a fantasy my mother created. I'm sorry, but there it is, and we've both gotta accept it and learn how to live with it."

He waited, but there was no response. With a heavy sigh, Carmine turned to face the man again. "Frank, I…"

Frank was on the floor, his back resting against the sofa, eyes wide and dazed.

"Frank? Frank, what's wrong?" Alarmed, Carmine dropped to his knees and reached for the older man, whose breath was coming in heaves now. "Frank!"

Frank's faded blue eyes were filled with pain. "Car-mine," he gasped. "Something…wrong."

"Oh, no. No! Don't you do this!" Carmine grasped his hand. It was icy cold. He shook his head, struggling to clear the remaining alcohol that clouded his thoughts.

"Tell…Edna and Laverne…love them." Frank coughed, his eyes drooping shut. "You too…son."

Carmine pressed his hand over his mouth. What do I do, what do I do? he screamed in his head. The small, removed part of himself coolly replied, Call an ambulance, stupid.

Leaping to his feet and nearly stumbling over a stray shoe on the floor, Carmine ran for the phone. "Hang on, Pop!" he called, glancing back at the motionless man slumped over on the floor. "Just don't leave me, please!"

One Month Previous… 

When she walked into her father's room and saw Carmine standing beside the bed, Laverne's first instinct was to pick up the nearby bedpan and smack him over the head with it. Fingers twitching, she came up behind him and snarled, "What makes you think you got a right to be here?"

Carmine looked over at her, eyes red-rimmed, face haggard under about a week's worth of stubble. She was startled in spite of herself, realizing it had been only a month since she'd last seen the guy and yet he looked years older. _What the hell happened to him?_ she wondered. Of course, judging by the expression on his face, he was probably thinking the same about her.

"Well?" she demanded, covering up her surprise with accusation.

"I got as much right to be here as you, Laverne." His voice was lower and rougher than she remembered. Colder, too.

"You're the reason he's here! If you hadn't have sprung the truth on him…!"

"That was you and your husband!" Carmine spat back. "He overheard Len talking to you! That's why he came to me…he already _knew_ the damned truth but he wanted an explanation. All I did was give it to him." He turned his attention back to her father, dismissing her.

She drew closer, biting her lower lip as she looked at Pop. He was lying, as he had been for the past several weeks, pale and silent, with only the sounds of monitors and pumps to remind her that he was still alive. The doctors kept telling her the same crap – wait and see, may not be permanent, but you should be prepared. Now she refused to listen to them; their indulgent chatter just made the turmoil in her head worse. All she could do was hope and pray that he made it, which was tough since she'd lost the ability to feel hope or anything else about a week after Joey was born. It was because of that she was already so angry with God that her prayers were obviously being ignored.

"You could've just kept quiet, Carmine." She couldn't let go of her need to hurt him, to make him feel as badly as she did.

"What are you saying? Should I have kept lying to him the rest of his days that I was his son? Believe me, I came close, but unfortunately I wasn't the only one privy to that bit of information!" Carmine glared at her out of the corner of his eye.

"Len didn't know he was listening! Neither did I."

"No, of course not. How could you? Yet I should've known that I meant so much to the guy that even talking about me not being his kid would kill him."

"Don't say that!" she cried. "He ain't dead!"

"What do you call this?" Carmine jabbed a finger at the bed. "Look, blame me, blame whoever you want, Laverne, but I'm not abandoning my fa…Frank for anyone! Not even for you!"

Abruptly, her urge to fight faded. Good, I'm gonna stop feeling now, she thought. She only had two ways of being these days: flooded by unexplainable, overwhelming emotion and completely devoid of feeling. The latter was a lot easier to deal with, and she welcomed the shift. Sighing, she said, "Stay then. Or go. Do whatever you want, Carmine. It doesn't make any difference one way or the other."

"I appreciate your permission," he said sarcastically.

They stood there, side by side in silence, just listening to the beeps and hisses and looking at the quiet old man in the bed. After a few minutes, Carmine asked, "How's the baby?"

"Great." Joey was the last thing she wanted to think about. She didn't want the emotions to come back; she was enjoying her numbness too much.

"Good."

"You heard from Shirley lately?"

He snorted. "Other than the AA pamphlets she mailed me? Nah, not a word."

"Sorry."

Carmine walked over to the window and stared out, one hand pressed against the glass. Laverne fussed with her father's blanket. Suddenly, Carmine said, "I miss him."

She pressed her lips together. "I do, too."

"You know, I really did believe he was my father. That wasn't a lie."

"Yeah, I know. Len told me the whole thing."

"Remember when we were kids and I'd come over to your house for dinner? Your mom made the best Bolognese I ever had."

"She was a hell of a cook." Laverne felt herself smile. The unfamiliar movement hurt the edges of her mouth.

"Yeah, she was. I used to pretend…never mind."

"No, go on. What?"

He turned from the window, resting the side of his head against the pane and staring past her. "I remember pretending that I was your brother. That Josephine and Frank were my parents. You know, sometimes I'd tell people that my name was Carmine DeFazio?" He chuckled.

"Got a nice ring to it."

His smile faded. "To think, all that time, your father was thinking the same thing. He believed it for so long, Laverne, thirty years!"

She blinked, trying to keep the tears from starting again. "It's no wonder learning he was wrong hit him so hard. I guess we should've all realized. Maybe then…I don't know…we could've been more careful, helped him get used to the idea slowly." She shrugged.

Carmine walked back over to the bed and rested his hand on Frank's forehead. Laverne saw his dark eyes were shining. "Except for my mother and, once upon a time, Shirley and Lucy, I never had anyone love me so completely, even if he kept it to himself most of my life. Now? My mother's gone, Shirley and Lucy left, and Frank's…" He broke off and closed his eyes.

Laverne felt a surge of emotion, but it was something unexpected, something she hadn't felt except on her own behalf for a long time. She put her arm around Carmine's shoulders and whispered, "You and me, we can't control what's gonna happen to Pop. But Shirley and Lucy are still around, Carmine, and you can control whether they come back, at least a little."

"I want to, Laverne. At least, part of me does. The other isn't so sure."

She looked at him. "You don't want to be with your wife and daughter?"

He pulled away, but looked her straight in the eye. "I'm afraid to be. I don't trust who I've become, Laverne. The man I am now shouldn't be around a woman like Shirley or an innocent little girl. I'm a stranger to myself…how can I be any sort of husband and father?" He smiled briefly. "I know, I sound completely nuts, don't I?"

She could feel the tears running down her cheeks. Wiping at them with the back of one hand, she whispered, "No, Carmine. I understand. I really, completely do."

He started to say something, but seemed to think better of it. Instead he ran a hand through her hair and said, "I better go now. If he…if you think he can hear you, tell him that I'll be back tomorrow, okay?"

She nodded, unable to speak anymore. Carmine shot one last, sad look at her father, then turned and disappeared down the corridor. Turning back to her father, she lifted his hand and kissed it. "For a guy who's not my brother, me and him are still an awful lot alike, ain't we, Pop?" She pressed his hand against her cheek and closed her eyes. "We need you, now more than ever. Please, Pop, please come back, before it's too late for both of us."

"Okay, Pappa. Right, see you then. Bye." Lenny hung up the phone with a grin. His father was coming in a month to see him, and meet Laverne and Joey. It gave Lenny such a rush of joy knowing that his father was back in his life that he nearly forgot how otherwise dreary his world had become.

It had been bad enough before Frank's massive heart attack. Ever since then, Laverne had gone from being moody to alternating between zombie-like and psychotic. It was getting to the point that Lenny was starting to question how long he could stay sane living like this.

He heard crying from the bedroom and his heart sank. "Now what?" He hurried up the stairs. "Laverne, what's the…?" He paused at the bedroom door, trying to absorb what he was seeing.

The baby was lying in his crib, sobbing. Laverne was standing with her back to the infant, just staring out the window as if he didn't exist. Lenny rubbed his eyes. "Laverne, Joey's crying. Why ain't you holding him?"

"He doesn't want me," she said flatly.

Lenny groaned. He went to the cradle and picked up his son, cooing softly as he rubbed the infant's back. "He needs his diaper changed, that's all. Couldn't you smell it?"

"No."

I won't yell, Lenny recited in his head. I won't get angry and I won't push her. But he could scarcely keep his hands from shaking as he placed his son on the changing table. "How could you not?" he said in a sing-song voice. "Joey made a big ol' smelly, didn't he? Daddy could smell it downstairs, so how could Mamma not smell it right in the same room, hm?"

Laverne didn't respond, but the baby flapped his hands happily at the sound of Lenny's voice, which almost erased his every angry feeling. Once Joey was changed, Lenny handed him to Laverne. "Here you go, one fresh boo."

"Just put him in the crib, will you?" She still wouldn't look away from the window.

Lenny took a slow, long breath. He put Joey in the crib and went to wash up in the bathroom. As he dried his hands, he began yanking the towel so hard that the thin fabric frayed. He tossed it into the sink. "Enough of this."

Marching back into the baby's room, he went over to Laverne and stood right behind her. His hands itched to grab her by the shoulders and shake her, but he forced them to remain at his sides. "Laverne, we gotta talk. Can you at least look at me?'

She turned around and he started at the sight of her. How could he have missed how she'd been letting herself go? Her hair was straggly, dark rings underlined her faded green eyes, and deep lines he'd never seen before were etched in her face. He noticed that she was still in the same pajamas and bathrobe she'd worn all day yesterday, and, when he thought about it, the day before that, too. "Laverne, I think something's wrong."

"Really." Her voice held no inflection. "What was your first clue?"

Her little sarcastic asides no longer struck him as cute. "Okay, fine. I'm slow. Sue me! Or slap me. Or do…something! Just stop doing this."

"This? What this? I'm not doing anything."

"That's the point!" He flung his hands up. "You ain't doing anything anymore, Vernie! If you even bother to get out of bed, all you do is move from room to room and stare! Haven't you noticed that we got a kid to take care of? He needs you, Laverne. We both do."

"Oh. Oh, I'm sorry." She crossed her arms over her chest. "Fatherhood already too much for you, Len? Not all fun and games being a parent, is it?"

"I never said it would be!" he cried. Glancing at the crib, he grasped Laverne by the elbow and led her out into the hallway. She jerked away from him outside as he closed the baby's door. "Laverne, I know this had been tough on you. What with the way Joey rushed into the world, and your father, it's all been overwhelming. But you're not in it alone. I'm here for both of you." He hesitated.

"But? There's a but coming."

"But," he sighed. "I never planned on being a single parent."

"And there it is, finally!" She glared at him. "Why don't you just come out and say what you really mean?"

"I thought I just did."

"No, Len. What you really mean is that I'm a complete failure as a wife and mother!"

Lenny blinked. "I do?"

"Yeah, you do. You think I don't know it? You think that every time I see how happy Joey gets when you pick him up I don't see it?"

"He's happy when anyone picks him up, Laverne. He just wants to be loved."

"Not by me, he doesn't!" She bit her lower lip. "All he does is cry and squirm away from me whenever I go near him. He knows…he can sense the truth."

Lenny shook his head. "Laverne, when was the last time you even tried to hold him? You can't possibly think that a tiny little baby has an opinion about you, one way or another."

"You're wrong, Len. Baby's can sense things. So can I."

"What are you talking about?"

"When was the last time we made love?"

Lenny pressed his fingertips against his temples. The way she kept jumping around, one thing not following the other, was making his head throb. "What? I don't know…sometime before Joey came along. What does that have to do with anything?"

"Everything!" she cried. "You haven't touched me in two months, Len, two months! Before the baby came, it made sense. I mean, I was all fat and unwieldy, I get that. But since then I may as well be your sister for all the heat between us!"

"Okay, okay. Let me try and catch up." Lenny could feel his temperature rising. "You don't want to go near our baby and it's because I haven't had sex with you?"

"No! Yes! Argh, just forget it!" She spun around, but he grabbed her arm and pulled her back.

"Cut it out!" he barked. "I don't know what the hell's wrong with you, but this has gotta stop! You're not making any sense at all! It's like you're not even _you_ anymore! You want to know why I haven't made a pass at you in so long? Try looking in the mirror, woman! You're a mess, inside and out. I'm nice to you and you yell at me. I take care of the baby for you and you blame me for him not liking you. I've had like five minutes of sleep in the past month tryin' to pay the bills and be a father and a mother and _I'm_ neglecting _you_?" He held her by the shoulders and shouted, "I just want to understand what happened to the woman I married!"

Laverne shoved him, hard, sending him into the opposite wall. "She failed, that's what happened! She got ugly and useless and sick to death of you judging her!"

Lenny could hardly see her through the red haze of his anger. "The only thing that happened to you is that you went completely nuts," he hissed. "You turned mean and lazy and wacko, lady, and if you don't get yourself straightened out, pronto I'm…I'll…"

"You'll what? You'll leave me? Like Shirley abandoned Carmine as soon as the going got tough?"

"And I'll take our son with me!"

He couldn't believe the words were coming out of his mouth, but in that moment, he meant them. She nodded and a strange, almost satisfied look crossed her face. "Why not. For all the purpose I serve around here, I may as well already be gone." With that, she turned and ran off toward their bedroom. He heard the door slam.

Lenny swung around and punched the wall behind him with a shout. Plaster and paint chips showered down as he struggled to catch his breath, using the jolt of pain in his hand to gather his thoughts. "Nothing makes any sense. I gotta do something. I gotta figure out what I'm doing wrong, before there's nothing left."

_That Day._

Shirley poked at the meatloaf chilling on the plate in front of her, trying to distract herself from her mother's seemingly endless chatter. _The way the woman kept on going, you'd think Carmine was her husband and not mine,_ Shirley mused wryly.

"…not even a phone call to talk to his daughter. Probably so far gone he can't even find the phone. Why do girls always marry their fathers, hm?"

"Mother," said Shirley wearily. "I don't want to have this argument again."

Her mother tsked in disapproval. "I'm not arguing with you, dear. I applaud you for getting out right at the beginning, instead of putting yourself through what I did. Really, you've done yourself and that little girl a favor."

"Obviously."

"If I'd have had the foresight to leave your father the day he launched into that first six-pack, who knows where our lives could've gone? I might have found you a real father, maybe even a rich one." She sighed. "No point dwelling in the past though. What counts is that you file those divorce papers and get on with your future."

Shirley arched her eyebrows. "Divorce papers? What divorce papers?"

"Shirley, sometimes I don't think you listen to a word I say." Her mother planted her fists on her ample hips. "The ones I had my attorney draw up three weeks ago, remember?"

"I didn't ask you to…"

"Well, no, of course not. You were still too distraught. That's why I took it upon myself to arrange everything for you."

"Mother, I…"

"Now, now, there's no need to thank me. What are mothers for?"

Shirley stood up. "Mother!" she said firmly. "I'm not divorcing my husband!"

"What do you mean? Of course you are. You've already left him…"

"Not forever! I love Carmine. I just…I can't live with him right now, that's all. He needs time and I need time…"

"Time, shmime. Shirley, drunks don't just stop. You want to live with a man who turns to a bottle for support instead of his wife?"

Shirley flinched but held her ground. "This separation is temporary, Mother. I am not going to end my marriage like it was some sort of – I don't know – a dress to be returned to a department store! Carmine is a good man."

"So was your father when he wasn't drinking or whoring around," her mother scoffed. "He was a real peach five weeks a year."

Shirley squeezed her eyes shut and slowly counted to ten. When she trusted herself not to scream, she said, "I am not getting a divorce. End of discussion."

"Fine!" Her mother folded her arms and tapped one toe on the linoleum. "So, what's next then? Are you going to run back home to him now?"

Shirley hesitated. "We do need to talk," she said finally. "If only he would call. Then again, maybe it's time I stopped waiting for the phone to ring and did the calling myself."

"Crawling back to him. Typical, enabling behavior."

"Mother, you don't understand! I left in the heat of anger. There were lots of good reasons for my to be mad, mind you, but, well, Carmine had some pretty good reasons for acting the way he was, too. Maybe if I'd been more patient, waited until he was ready to come to me for help, he would have. He even said as much." She sank back into her chair. "But I was so furious that he'd kept something from me again. It felt like I was the last person on earth he could turn to."

"Sounds like a marriage full of promise," her mother commented, rolling her eyes.

"But maybe the problem wasn't just that he didn't trust me. Maybe it was that he didn't trust himself. Or maybe he was so hell-bent on living up to all my expectations of a perfect husband that he didn't dare say or do anything to betray that." Shirley buried her face in hands. "Oh, Mother. I think I've made a terrible mistake."

"Good girl. I'll get a pen."

"No!" Shirley peered at the older woman from between her fingers. "Mother, could I just have a few minutes alone? Please?"

"It's my kitchen," her mother grumbled. But she turned and marched out anyway.

Alone, Shirley drummed her fingertips against the table. _I can't give up on him, not out of pride, not out of hurt feelings. God help me, I love the man so much I can't see straight. He was right when he said it takes two people to make a marriage work; if one of those people walks away, what's left? _

She wondered how far gone Carmine might be now. Without being forced to put on at least a façade of keeping it together for her and Lucy, there might be nothing left of the man she loved. Was it too late to go back? Would he even care if she did?

"It doesn't matter," she muttered determinedly. "Whether he yells at me or throws me back out, he needs me. I know he does. And heaven help me, I need him."

"Me, too." A small voice from the doorway. Shirley turned and saw Lucy staring at her, her sad, dark eyes so like Carmine's they made her heart ache. She extended her arms and the little girl ran into them. She felt like hope in Shirley's arms and Shirley Feeney was nothing if not a strong believer in hope.

Lenny slammed the beer can down on the table and waved at a passing waiter. "Another, _garcon_!"

"Not you, too." Squiggy slapped his arm back down and called, "Never mind, Garson, or whatever your name is. He's had enough."

"Who died and made you my mother?" Lenny demanded.

"Somebody's gotta do it. Geeze, what is wrong with you fellas lately? First Carmine, now you."

"Yeah, well maybe me and he – him – we got our reasons." Lenny glared at his friend across the sticky, scratched tabletop.

"Tell me about it, then." Squiggy gestured around them. "Don't think I don't appreciate a night out on the town with my best bud at a classy joint like The Bucket O' Suds here, but shouldn't you be home with your wife and spawn?"

"No, Squig. I should be anywhere but home. Just ask Laverne. She'll second that emotion damn quick." Lenny tipped back the beer can, feeling a trickle or two of liquid run down his throat. _Empty. Crap._

"She's still acting all Jekyll and Heide on you, huh?"

"Oh, no, it's even better now. There's no Jekyll at all anymore. Only Hyde." Lenny clenched his fingers around the beer can, crumpling it with relish.

"I see." Squiggy frowned. "So who's the baby with?"

"Rhonda."

"Rhonda, huh?" He smirked. "She's been watching your pride 'n' joy a lot lately. Funny how she turns out to have such a domestic streak." His grin faded. "But she ain't little Joey's mommy. It ain't right."

"Don't you think I know that?" Lenny cried. "I don't know what's wrong with Laverne, Squig. I can't talk to her no more, I can't comfort her. It's not like I don't want to, but she won't let me! She acts like she's afraid of our own baby…or worse."

"Worse?"

Lenny shook his head. Even now, with a few drinks in him and with one of the people he trusted most on earth, he couldn't bring himself to say it out loud. "I get that her father's still so sick, and she's devastated over it. I understand that takin' care of a kid is tough. I even realize that not havin' Shirl around right now to confide in, girl to girl, ain't helping the situation. But you know what, Squig? I'm this close to not giving a flying – fig, no more!"

Squiggy peered at the tiny space between Lenny's forefinger and thumb and commented, "That's pretty close."

"Damn straight." Lenny twisted the crumpled beer can. "Where did I go all wrong, Squig? What should I have done to keep this insanity from takin' over our lives?"

"There it is."

"Where it is? Huh?"

"That! That's classic Lenny-itis."

Lenny shook his head. "Make sense, man!"

"I am." Squiggy leaned back in his chair, heels propped against the table. "Every time something bad happens in the world, you blame yourself for it."

"That ain't true."

"Bull! Your mother leaves your family, it's your fault. Your father loses touch for years, it's your fault. I screw somethin' up? Your fault. Laverne breaks a nail? Your fault. Some guy in India tripped over a cow? Your fault…"

"Okay, okay, I get it." Lenny rubbed his eyes.

"Do you? I mean, do you understand that you don't run the whole world? That stuff actually sometimes happens not because of you, but because it just _does_?" Squiggy let the chair's forelegs drop back down to the floor and he leaned across the table. "You ain't half as rotten as you think you are, buddy boy. And you ain't nearly as in control."

"I oughta be!" snapped Lenny. Realizing how that sounded, he corrected, "I mean, I know I ain't the boss of things, but shouldn't I be responsible for my own family's ills?"

"Some, yeah. But all of it, especially whatever bug's crawled up Laverne's patootie? Nope, 'fraid not. You're a good husband, Lenny, even I can see that, and you're an even more awesome father. Why, if I'da had an old man like you?" He paused, and Lenny saw his lower lip quiver slightly. "The point is, there's something else going on."

"I know that! I already told you, I get that her father is sick and the baby…"

"No, more than that. I don't know what, but maybe, you know, she really is going crazy."

This stopped Lenny cold. As often as he'd hurled the epithet, it never actually occurred to him that it might be accurate. What if his wife was truly unhinged? That the birth and the shocks over her father's lies and then ill health had honestly driven her around the bend? "Then she really does need help," he whispered. "But not from me. Oh, my God, Squig, could that be it?"

Squiggy shrugged. "Everyone goes a little crazy sometimes, but some more than others."

"What should I do Squig?" Lenny knocked the mangled beer can onto the floor as he nearly launched himself across the table to grab Squiggy's jacket. "How do I handle this?"

"First you un-manhandle me." Squiggy plucked his lapels away, but his eyes were gentle. "Len, I ain't no expert in crazy, but it seems to me a doctor would be a good start."

"Yeah." Lenny jumped to his feet, but then swayed. "Whoa, earthquake!"

"No, Lenny-quake." Squiggy sighed and stood up, grabbing him by the arm.

"I gotta find one now! Right now, Squiggy, this can't wait."

"It's almost ten o'clock. You ain't findin' no one tonight but your bed." Squiggy tried to lead him to the door, but Lenny dug in his heels and stopped.

"I can't go home!" he pleaded. "You don't understand – she threw me out tonight!"

"She's thrown you out every other night for a month now. Who cares?"

"But it's different now," Lenny insisted. "Now I know what I'm dealing with, I can't push her. I might make it worse…hell, I've probably been making it worse for months now!"

Squiggy sighed. "So we're back to Lenny is the root of all evil again? Okay, fine. You can crash at my place."

Lenny allowed his friend to lead him to the door. "Thanks, Squig. But what about the doctor?"

"Tomorrow, Len."

"Yeah, okay. But first thing, tomorrow, right? You make sure I'm up at the crack of dawn, got it?"

"So about eleven?"

"Yeah, that'll be perfect."

Laverne stood outside the door to Rhonda's apartment. She balled her hand into a fist, the one not clutching a beer bottle, but couldn't bring herself to knock. She let her arm drop to her side and hung her head. _I am rotten. I can't believe I turned out so awful._ She hoped that the Church was wrong about Heaven, because if her mother could look down at her, she would be sick with shame.

Turning away from the door, Laverne started upstairs when her eyes fell upon the door to Carmine's apartment. _I can't be bothering him, _she thought_. He's got his own junk to deal with_. But even as she thought it, she took another swig and found herself knocking.

It took awhile, but finally the door opened. Carmine looked out at her with glassy eyes and said, "Hey, Laverne."

"Hey, Carmine. Um, can I come in?"

"Sure." He pulled open the door and she staggered in. The place was in pretty shabby shape and the young man standing inside it didn't look much better. He was wearing a faded tee shirt and jeans with holes at the knees, and his feet were bare. His face was bristly and his dark curls somewhat disheveled, but he didn't look quite as gaunt as he had when she'd seen him at her father's bedside almost a month ago.

"How you doing?" he asked. "Sorry about the mess, but if you want to sit down?" He gestured to the sofa.

"Good enough for me." She walked over and plunked herself down. He sat next to her and waited. "Guess you're wondering what I'm doing here."

He shrugged. "It is pretty late."

"Yeah, well. I didn't have anyplace else to go." She drained the remainder of her beer and tried to put the bottle on the coffee table. She missed and it rolled onto the floor.

Carmine watched it with a somber expression. "That's a pretty sad statement, considering you got a husband and baby upstairs."

She bit her lip. "No I don't."

Carmine's eyes widened. "Did something happen? Are Lenny and Joey okay?"

It was her turn to shrug. "Len's out somewhere. Joey's with Rhonda."

"So late?"

"Yeah, so late! So what? It ain't like he's not getting better care there than he'd get at home!" She glanced around. "You got any more beer? Heh, look who I'm askin'! You want one, too?"

She started to get up, but his hand on hers stopped her. "What are you afraid of, Laverne?"

She paused, processing the question. Finally, she said, "I don't know. Me, mostly."

"Why?"

Months of tormenting emotions began bubbling to the surface; buoyed by the five bottles of beer she'd drained that night. She felt helpless to stop the feelings this time, but didn't much feel like she had to. After all, this wasn't Lenny she was with, the man she couldn't seem to keep from hurting over and over again. This wasn't her partner in a marriage that was rapidly crumbling under her constant tirades and failures. This was just Carmine, her almost-brother, watching her without any judgment in his eyes. Emboldened, she said, "Because I hate my own son."

She waited for his reaction: shock, disgust, horror – any or all of the feelings she'd had when she'd realized the truth. But instead, he simply said, "No you don't."

"Yeah, Carmine. Yeah, I do." She stood up and began pacing like a caged tiger. "Every time I look at him, all I can see is what a failure I am as a mother. He makes me feel so useless, so inadequate. He reminds me of everything I'd hoped would happen after he was born and how none of it turned out." Tears burned her eyes. "I don't love my own child, Carmine. I can't even bear to look at him. What kid of a monster does that make me?"

He stood up and placed his hands on her shoulders. The gentleness of his touch released her tears and she fell against him, sobbing. "You're not a monster. I understand why you think you are, but you're not."

"How can you say that?" She pounded weakly at his chest, but he just held her tighter. "What kind of a woman am I? I've been just awful to the kindest, most loving man on the planet ever since his son was born, and why? Because I feel so unbelievably bad all the time! I can hardly get out of bed, I'm so bone-weary, yet Len's the one whose been doing everything. I want to cry every time I hear my baby's little voice. I'm so full of anger and grief and guilt that I…I just can't…"

"Sh," Carmine hugged her. "Listen to me, Laverne. What you're feeling, it's real and it's really bad. But it isn't you. It can't be, because I know you, and you're a loving, wonderful woman. Something's gone wrong inside you – I don't know what – but I know this. You can get past it. However, whatever it takes, you can get better."

"How?" she wailed. "I don't even know why I feel like this? What can I possibly do? I've driven away the only person in the world who could help me, I can't ask my father for advice, or my best friend!"

"And that's my fault. And I'm sorry." Carmine released her and turned away.

"No…wait. That's not what I meant."

"It's okay." He glanced back at her over his shoulder. "It's the truth. I handled things badly with your father and it hurt him. Then I chased Shirley away." He stared pointedly at her abandoned bottle on the floor. "Then I crawled inside a beer can and wallowed in it."

He dropped down on the sofa and Laverne noticed that his hands were shaking, violently. She sat down next to him, watching them as her sobs subsided. "You really do understand, don't you?"

He smiled, briefly. "You're pushing away the people closest to you because you don't want them hurt by what you've become. Yeah, I do understand that. I really, really do." His eyes met hers. "You're not the only monster in this room."

"Stop that. You're not any sort of monster, Carmine. At least the only person you really hurt is yourself."

"And you don't? Look in the mirror, Laverne. You're destroying yourself every bit as much as I am. Lenny, Joey – Shirley, Lucy – they're all just our collateral damage."

She started to object but couldn't. He was right. In his eyes, she could see all the guilt and self-loathing that she was feeling and something suddenly clicked. "You chased your family away to punish yourself. It wasn't to protect them from what you've become, or think you've become, Carmine. It was to hurt _you_. But why? When did you start to hate yourself so much?"

"I'm a drunk and I'm full of anger," he protested. "Of course it was to protect them."

She shook her head. "You're not. At least, you weren't, not when Shirl and Lucy left. When, Carmine? When did it all go so wrong?"

"The day I found out I was Tony Ragusa's son!" he burst out, eyes flashing with rage and grief. "The day I realized that I wasn't Frank's, and so there was no escaping what I would become!"

Confused, she asked, "What you would become? You act like you found out you _were_ Tony Ragusa. You're not, Carmine. You're _you_."

He balled his trembling hands into fists and pounded them against his thighs. "For how long, Laverne? Apples only fall so far from their trees, or some shit like that. It was only a matter of time before I became my father. Before I became _this_."

"Bullshit!" she exclaimed. "You control who you are and what you do! It don't matter who you're father and mother are, or what they do to you, at least not completely! You've been a kind, decent, caring man for thirty-plus years now, Carmine. Then one bad day and bam, you're a raging drunk?" She shoved him. "That ain't destiny, pal! That's all you!"

"You're one to talk!" he shot back, jumping to his feet. "You've loved Lenny from afar for years now, and what happens? You finally get everything you've ever wanted – the man you love, a beautiful son – and you do your damndest to rip it all apart! That ain't you, either, Laverne. Something's wrong with you, something that's out of your control, but you waste your time blaming yourself instead of getting some help!"

She started to retort, but something he said gave her pause. She hardly dared to grab onto the strand of hope he was offering, but was too desperate to resist. "You really think so? You really think this could all be some sort of, I don't know. Mental problem?"

"Mental, emotional – hell, maybe even physical. You've been through a lot in a really short time, Laverne."

"Yeah. Yeah, I have." _My God_, she realized. _What if something really is wrong with me?_ She knew it was funny that such a thought should give her some relief, but it did. _If I'm sick, really sick, I can get better. And then, maybe I can finally become the wife and mother I'm supposed to be._

"What are you smiling about?" Carmine demanded, sullenly.

"Thank you."

"Huh?"

She walked over to him, put her arms around him, and kissed him gently on the forehead. He smelled of musk and vaguely of garlic, a not unpleasant combination. "I know, it sounds…well, crazy. But if I am, at least I can do something about it. I can see someone, or get some medication, whatever. If I'm sick, then there's a cure, right?"

He looked into her eyes and she saw a flicker of the man he'd been, the man who'd always been there to lend a shoulder to cry on or a helping hand. "For someone like you, there's always hope," he murmured.

"There is for you, too, Carmine. You don't have to be your father, not anymore. You can be the man I've known and loved for thirty years. You can be the man my father considers a son."

He blinked and she was startled to see tears in his eyes. "I don't know how anymore. I'm trying, I really am, but God help me, Laverne, I'm so lost."

She reached up with her fingertip and brushed a single tear away from the corner of his eye. "Let me help you," she whispered.

To Be Continued… 


End file.
